Movie Time
by Hushabye
Summary: The first Thursday of every month is movie night for Finn and Marceline. But methinks this evening might be a tad different from all the rest.


_First Adventure Time fic. OTP ahead. Finnceline just rocks my socks. And I hope this shows it. :D_

Becoming slightly engaged in movies wasn't at the top of Marceline's 'Distractions' list (yes, she actually kept one somewhere in her bedroom… hey, even vampires could get bored enough to distract themselves with a list of what to distract themselves with). But when it came down to hanging with Finn, she tended to reconsider her once permanent decision.

Tradition was a rather large influential factor as well, and they had taken turns spending the evening at one another's dwellings the first Thursday night of every month since Finn turned sixteen, watching films of all genres. Action, horror, comedy, tragedy, romance- the whole shebang.

They laughed, they cried (though Marceline argued vehemently that she never did such a thing); they shared their extremely differing opinions. And sometimes, they fell asleep, waking up the following morning in varying positions.

_Always a jammin' time,_ as Finn once described it, **but without the literal jamming, **she had then added on.

This particular movie sesh, as dark as dark could be where the vampire lived, began like any other. Nothing special, nor radical. It was, however, peaceful, and Marceline soon discovered her eyelids beginning to weigh her down and cramp her style. With her enhanced peripheral vision, she could see that little bit of baby fat left on Finn's eighteen year old stomach, and she found her top half lowering itself onto that very patch before her mind could get a chance to figure out her true state of being.

Curling into the fetal position as the plot on the television set thickened, Marceline sighed in an almost breathy manner, which made her not-so-natural inclination to vomit much more potent. But she somehow managed to muddle through, dignity still intact.

And at this oddly unfamiliar point, Finn had no idea where to put his hands, so he placed them behind his bear ears, wriggling them about like the thirteen year old he once was. He hoped Marcy wouldn't notice, and at the same time, he did because he wasn't sure how to take the rumbly feeling in his belly as he became aware of her sable hair pressed against the fabric of his shirt, cold seeping through, caressing his skin.

Tendrils, that was it. He felt tendrils licking his insides; coating them with their foreign, strange fluids.

After sixty seconds on the dot, Finn ceased his batting-of-the-ears-athon, and slowly relaxed his palms atop Marci's back and shoulder. She rolled her tired eyes, knowing exactly what he had been doing to distract himself for the past minute, but had decided not to call attention to his childishness because she found his movement choice oddly amusing. She could tell her latest resting place caused him light discomfort, and that was enough to allow herself to roll over, now able to see his boyish yet masculine features while upside down. One index finger slithered upward toward his chin, flattening against the bone and slowly sliding across. He shivered and so did she, a devious smile stretching her mouth in either direction.

"I feel hair that wasn't there before. Trying to impress the ladies with your newfound grown up abilities?" Marceline questioned, wriggling her eyebrows.

Finn laughed nervously, cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson. "I, uhhh…" He involuntarily stopped short, and Marcy stretched herself back into her original position, fangs clearly showing as her grin multiplied in diameter.

"I could just suck that red directly from your face, Finn." And brighter still. "In other words, your blushing looks adorably appetizing." She leaned against the couch, not feeling the urge to hover above like she normally did, and pretended to continue watching the movie, as that _was_ their plan from the get-go. Finn shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, attempting to get in the 'correct' 'zone' for film studying. Though he had never acquired a 'taste' for the word 'study'.

So many unnecessary air quotations, it was driving him bananas.

For a long moment, all that Finn could _truly_ concentrate on was Marceline's body frigidity, and the fact that it was closer than normal. Yes, he was accustomed to standing near her, being around her; adventuring with her, making rockin' music by her side. But this time felt different, and he couldn't seem to put his finger on it.

Marceline yawned, and Finn tried desperately not to glance at her chest when she took a rather large intake of air. He cursed his overzealous nature, and then felt, with a bit of horror and shock and awe, mixed together to make a dreaded, aphrodisia-filled elixir, her frosty hand upon his thigh.

A lump formed in the middle of Finn's throat, and he couldn't seem to shake the obvious reaction he was beginning to have while in her presence.

_Why here, why now?_

Of course, he had always been attracted to her in one way or another, but… _man,_ did she spark something unexpected inside. And it was beginning to make its way toward the outer realm as well.

Thinking about her slender extremities inching their way across his leg, coming into contact with what lay between each made matters all the worse. Her long, messy locks, bitter against his burning cheek cut right through his manly parts. Those lumps underneath her shirt heaving caused his own breath to wither and die out for what seemed, regarding his short life span, an eternity. What was she doing to him? It must have been some sort of vampire thing. These feelings didn't all of a sudden appear out of nowhere. Maybe she had done something to the drink that had been sitting in his bladder for a small portion of his time spent there? He should probably ask before jumping to any conclusions. Not that she would exactly give him the truth, but he thought, well, no harm no foul.

"Hey Marcy, did you-" She turned her head, her thumb, at this exact juncture, tracing patterns along his thigh. Her pupils glanced downward for a split second, and she couldn't help but giggle at Finn's tented shorts. How did _he_ not notice? She thought for sure he would have at least_ tried _to cover it up.

"Cause _that?"_ she interrupted, briefly ceasing her previous actions. "Bonnibel isn't around, is she? Because she's the only other one I can think of that would, well… get you all _excited."_

Finn raised his left eyebrow, visage resembling a cherry. He ignored her declaration and also ventured to ignore the stiffness he was suddenly experiencing as he continued on his quest for answers. But, as fate would cruelly have it, to no avail. "You didn't happen to use freaky supernatural forces to get me hyped, did you?" His legs made their way up, knees adjacent to his chest. Marceline had to think before reacting in any way, shape, or form. And what finally came out first was laughter; then a few shakes of her head.

"It's quite apparent how inexperienced you are," she chortled. One hand reached out to gradually push his legs down, eventually settling upon the accursed hardness between them. Finn throbbed painfully, the slightest touch making major tidal waves. "Have you ever been touched where I'm touching you right now? I mean, other than by you. Because, let's face it, you're a dude."

Entire being on fire, Finn struggled to even mouth the word 'no', let alone say it. He had yet to talk to anyone about the changes he was going through. Jake had fleetingly mentioned "Tier 15", and waking in a puddle after a long night's reverie, but refused to go into any detail, which made the human a tad bonkers.

Marceline leisurely rubbed the outside of his shorts, and he dragged his hindquarters across the couch, suppressing a few noises his sensitivity _really_ wanted him to vocalize. "Tonight's your lucky night then, hero. I'm gonna touch you there until you _explode_ with pleasure."

Finn's eyes widened, switching focus from her facial expression to her hand. "Are you-" Fresh, crisp lips rudely rendered him speechless, and he had no choice but to swallow hard and kiss her back. She moaned softly, a sound so filled with multiple, restrained carnal urges that the boy's lashes fluttered, and he repeatedly forced his carbon dioxide into her.

Fingers abruptly slipped inside his shorts, nails elongating momentarily to traipse across his desperate length. For the thousandth time it appeared, Finn violently inhaled, and he was left with nothing but the taste of her mouth, lingering heavily in his nose as she pulled away.

He could not speak. In fact, he dared not speak, should he say something stupid and/or mood-killing-esque. He bit his bottom lip, boring holes through the back of Marceline's head as she dipped lower, what covered his buried thickness peeling, falling to the floor like a defeated warrior.

Marceline gripped the base of Finn's breadth, and tortuously, she drifted upward, thumb enclosing the tip. He was leaking, and that embarrassed him slightly, despite her overt joy over this revelation.

"So very _excited,"_ she hissed, a puff of seduction slapping his expanse as she flattened her forked tongue atop the highest point. He squirmed, though not at all uneasily. Perhaps miserably, as she _did_ revel in taking her sweet, sweet time, when all he wanted her to do was go fast. _Fast._ **_Faster._**

"Mmf," Finn puffed, cheeks so red they could burst. "Mmf _Marcy."_ His voice wavered, and he bucked his hips, shoving more of himself into that wet cavern brimming with teeth. Teeth that scraped and scratched, but he was far, _far_ from caring now. "You're… you feel… this… _Glob,"_ he panted, her throat accompanying the obstruction.

The vampire smirked around his pulsating sex, producing noises that caused vibrations, shaking him and his thought that touching _himself_ was the greatest flopping thing in the land of Ooo.

Soon, he was all the way against the darkest place of her throat, and she gobbled him up, sucking on him as if he were the ripest strawberry she had ever drained. His gaze traveled- wandered- toward the cleavage that was popping out of her shirt, rearing back to attack him at any given moment. Without another thought, he squeezed one of those round balls of distraction, cupping the underside and gliding along the sharp object at the very center. She next took him out of her mouth, just to properly feel the curious touches of a being once innocent.

Marceline's fingers lingered, clutching the entirety of Finn's erupting veins. He canted his waist toward the sky, toward complete bliss, and after a few swipes of his length, he was exuding ample amounts of milk. He released a breath he had no idea he was even holding, and watched with boyish excitement his friend's tongue lapping up what hot liquid had spurt from his volcano.

She sounded pleased, almost as pleased as Finn, and he stared as she cleaned him off, tongue veering along the horizon of her exaggerated fangs.

"Your white is better than all the red in the world, sweetheart," Marceline praised, head satisfyingly hitting the top of the couch, hands folding across her lap, unfairly finished before whatever this was had begun. She stole a glimpse at the TV, noticing nothing but black, and she smiled. "Movie's over, just in time."

Finn was still attempting to regain composure, but he _was_ able to catch the few words Marcy had uttered. "Just in time?" he questioned, very nearly feverish, stomach inflating and deflating rapidly.

Fangs ever in plain sight as she explained, "For you to touch _me."_

And he could have cum again.

_I was thinking about a second installment, buuuuut I thought I would ask if that was a good idea first. Because I do like the ideas that leaving it exactly like this could produce. ;)_


End file.
